


Mountain of the Sun

by grumpyphoenix



Series: Various Bangs [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dean and Sam are Men of Letters, DeanCas Flipfest 2018, Hunter Castiel, Hunter Gabriel (Supernatural), Lovecraftian Monster(s), M/M, Men of Letters are assholes, Past Relationship(s), References to "Re-education", Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 19:36:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14677992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumpyphoenix/pseuds/grumpyphoenix
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester are the wealthy scions of the Winchester and Campbell clans, heirs to the Men of Letters. They have more resources and talent than the meddling Shurley brothers. The last thing Dean Winchester needs is a pool hustling, greasy gearhead of a hunter getting in his way and ruining his life. Again.Castiel and Gabriel are the (in)Famous Shurley brothers, the hunters who saved the world. For them, this is the family business, born and raised. They use their muscle and ingenuity to kill monsters, and have more talent in their left buttcheek than the haughty entitled Winchester boys. The last thing Castiel Shurley needs is a suave, beautiful genius of a hunter getting in his way and ruining his life. Again.But the man with the magic book doesn't care about their feud, and he is going to summon a monster from beyond their universe to swallow the world if they don't work together to save it. If Castiel and Dean can stop staring at each other long enough to do the job, that is.





	Mountain of the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Deancebra](https://deancebra-art.tumblr.com) for the amazing art, and the patience with my running close to the wire. You did such an fantastic job, and I can't be grateful enough. Check out the art post [ here](https://deancebra-art.tumblr.com/post/173951904988/let-me-just-say-that-working-this-has-been-a).
> 
> None of this would have been possible without [ my beta Lotrspnfangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotrspnfangirl/pseuds/lotrspnfangirl), who makes me into a better writer. 
> 
> Sam and Dean being part of the MoL is meant to mimic the way that human!Cas' family is often portrayed in fiction: Rigid, unforgiving, kind of evil.

The bar is the same as it is in every other city. Generic enough to be almost nameless, neon signs casting a lighthouse beacon out to the kinds of people who go to these places; criminal, despairing, addicted, angry. Cas grabs two beers from the requisite tattooed leather asshole behind the sticky bar and glides sinuously through the crowd, causing his brother to raise a tired eyebrow.

“Cassie,” Gabriel drawls through his toothpick, relieving Cas of a bottle, “did we come here for a fight? Because you’re doing that hip thing again, and I think that bruiser at the pool table isn’t sure if he wants to hit you or fuck you.”

Castiel smiles serenely, sliding into his chair with the most delicate of moves, crossing one leg over the other. “Or both, possibly.”

Gabriel sighs, taking a long pull off the bottle while keeping an eye on the guy and his friends. “Yeah, probably both. One informs the other though, and you know that full well.” He paused, eyes flicking to his brother before asking, “So is our guy here tonight, cause I’m not sure, but I think I caught at least three diseases just sitting here.”

Castiel takes a swig of his beer with a grimace at the taste. “Nope. Actually, I’m pretty sure that he’s picked up stakes and moved. The bartender said he settled up his debts yesterday. If he’s going where we think he is, we’ll have to leave soon to catch up.”

Gabriel sets his bottle down slightly harder than necessary and turns his phone on to look at the notes he’s taken that day on their quarry. After a second, he looks up at Castiel. “I see how you’re looking at that bottle. Just don’t.”

Cas regards his beer bottle seriously, running one finger up the sweating glass. His eyes flicker up and lock on the hunk of beef still at the pool table, Castiel watching from under his long lashes. Beefcake has noticed it too, standing stock still with one hand clenching the pool cue spasmodically.

“We haven’t had a fight in _days_ , though, Gabby. Days.” Cas licks his lips, pulling the bottle up towards his lips in slow motion.

“Fucking-- _Gabby?!_ Really? Knock it off,” Gabriel grumbles, his expression resigned. He shrugs his leather jacket on and makes sure that his phone is zipped carefully into the inner pocket.

Cas lifts the beer bottle to his lips, his gaze still locked with the man at the pool table. Tilting his head back, he turns the simple act of drinking this beer into something utterly _filthy,_ swallowing and swallowing until the entire bottle is dry. Rescuing an errant drop with his pinky, he delicately sucks it off his fingertip and bats his eyes at the angry meathead.

Castiel’s delighted laughter when the pool cue comes flying at his head echoes loudly over the noise filling the bar. He catches it mid swing and twists it deftly out of the jerk’s hand. Despite the unbalanced weight, he twirls it like a staff, smacking his would-be assailant in the head with one end, and then the other. The man falls in a moaning heap onto the floor and there’s a minute where everyone just stares at them, all in stunned silence.

With a variety of slurs, the guy’s posse of mostly drunk friends converge on the brothers. There’s a few minutes of intense fighting; the men at the pool tables are seasoned, used to drunken brawls, but Gabriel fights like a wounded mutt, dirty and sneaky, and Castiel is an unstoppable blur of fists and feet. A bottle thrown at Castiel’s head hits some random guy instead, who punches the person next to him, and soon the entire room is one big fracas. The brothers escape out the back door just as the sirens and lights come down the street.

They head out of town that night. Castiel’s grinning face is lit from below by the dashboard, the new bruises already showing. Gabriel watches the lights of the city go by, resting his temple on the passenger side glass and listening to the muscular growl of the Mustang’s engine.

  
  
  
\---

It takes three days to get to Kansas. The closer they get to the state, the less Castiel sleeps. He spends every night out at a bar, either drinking so much that Gabriel has to scrape him off the floor, fucking or fighting any man who will oblige him. Sometimes, terrifyingly, both.

Their conversations about that go badly.

The fourth day, actually in Kansas, they stop to eat at a diner just off the road. The only sign on it is in neon. It says “Food”.

Castiel cuts the engine and grins at it. “Well. I’m not sure what else there is to say. Food!” He inhales, “I can smell the grease from here.”

Gabriel sighs. “Fine, whatever. But if I get food poisoning, I’m going to throw up on your bed.”

Castiel shrugs. “I don’t have to stay there. Just don’t do it in the car.”

Gabriel makes a face. “Ass.”

Climbing out of the car, Castiel grins. “I’m adorable.”

The diner is just on the right side of grimy, with worn out vinyl booths and a tired looking counter you can sit at to eat. A small window allows everyone to see the chef beyond it. The air smells like grease and bacon. There’s an old fashioned pie-dome on the counter next to the cash machine, and the pie under the gleaming glass is inspired.

Before they even sit down, Castiel is drawn to it like a magnet, announcing that while Pecan pie is the _best_ pie, Cherry is the second best. Gabriel pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a sigh, gesturing to it.

“Pie. Right, well there’s only one piece then, get it,” he says wearily, walking off, “I’ll find us a seat.”

Someone walks up behind Cas as he opens his mouth, and two sets of voices ask at the same time for ‘The last piece of cherry pie, please’. The tired, lone waitress behind the counter looks from one man to the other, and shrugs.

“You two are gonna have to work out who gets that pie.” She snaps her gum, waiting expectantly.

Castiel closes his eyes. “If I turn around, that had better not be --”

Behind him, the other man says, “Better not turn around then, I guess.”

Castiel turns around, jaw clenching, to glare at Dean Winchester. He’s dressed in an expensive leather jacket that’s been tailored to help hide the fact he’s wearing a shoulder holster, and a pair of cowboy boots that probably cost enough to pay for a whole new set of tires for the Mustang. Cas, on the other hand, is still rumpled from the road. His hair is a tousled mess and he’s still wearing the suggestive t-shirt and skin tight jeans he wore to pick up a one night stand in a bar the night before. The brothers had left immediately after Cas had stumbled back to the hotel, hungover and too annoyed by it to bother to shower. He still smells like sex and alcohol.

Neither man is able to control their expressions, hungrily raking their eyes over each other and ending up staring silently into each other’s eyes. Halfway down the counter, Gabriel spies Dean’s brother already sitting in a booth. With an aggravated look at Cas, he heads off to say hello to Sam.

“We-ell,” Dean drawls, “if it isn’t the Shurleys. And what are you doing here, as if we didn’t know?”

Castiel narrows his eyes. “Hands off my pie, Winchester.”

Dean grins slowly. “Your pie, huh?”

“I got here first, that is _my_ pie. Besides, you don’t even like cherry pie.” Castiel crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes.

Eyebrow lift. “What? Of course I do, it’s the best pie.”

Castiel grinds his teeth. “You came over here just to grab it before I could have it. You didn’t even want it until I did.”

“You didn’t even like pie until me, and now, what, you’re grabbing any pie you see? Sweet potato? Pecan? Meat pie?” Dean sounds petulant, and clearly knows it, lifting his chin stubbornly.

Narrowing his eyes, Castiel advances on Dean, backing him up until his ass hits the counter. Dean holds up his hands with a nervous laugh.

“Dean,” Castiel drops his voice to a low rumble,”I think you know full well that I’d eat a meat pie. Slowly. Delicately. Savoring every morsel, licking up every drop of gravy.”

Dean swallows hard. Castiel shifts so that his body is inches from Dean’s, lowering his voice into a silky purr. “Don’t get me started on Pecan pie. All of those _nuts._ ”

The gutteral noise that Dean makes gets swallowed up by the bustle of Gabriel sweeping Castiel off to the other side of the counter. He forces Cas to sit on a stool, and then plunks down on the one beside it.

Dean gathers himself together, straightening his coat and squaring his shoulders. Forgetting the pie, he stalks off to sit next to Sam who is camped in a booth on the other side of the diner. Sam has an almost identical expression as Gabriel: angry, exasperated, worried.

With a glare at Dean, Gabe whispers viciously, “You two need to bone again or get married or something. It’s getting ridiculous at this point.”

Castiel scowls. “What is your preoccupation with this? You’re having a fantasy, Gabe. The only thing happening here is that Dean Winchester is a complete jackass, and I’m calling him on it.”

Gabriel snorts. “You’re full of shit. Neither of you is over the other one. If you were really done with each other, you wouldn’t care about _pie._ ”

Castiel grits his teeth. “Pie is delicious.”

“It _is_ delicious, but you hate it. You hate pie, Cas. You only eat it because _he_ likes it. I mean it, baby brother. Fuck him or something. Get it out of your system.”

Cas turns away and looks up at the waitress who is staring at him with a deeply unimpressed look. “Burger and fries. And that _pie_ , please. Get shorty here a stack of pancakes.”

Gabriel throws up his hands. “Fine. You stay here, I’m going to talk to Sam for a minute.

Castiel shrugs one shoulder, refusing to look at him.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Gabriel grumbles, heading over to Sam’s booth. Dean is sitting next to him with his arms crossed, aiming a death glare at the table. Sam pats the unoccupied side of the bench next to him with an apologetic smile and Gabriel slips into the booth, patting him companionably on the shoulder.

“Sorry, dude. Castiel has had way too much coffee today.” Gabriel smiles up at the same waitress who has wandered over to refill Sam’s mug. “Hey, sweetheart. Don’t worry about those two. They’ll either kiss or take it outside to smack each other around a little. They won’t cause trouble in here.”

Dean squawks in protest, but both men ignore him.

Sam snorts, delicately adding cream and sugar to his coffee. Gabriel gives him a once over, from his custom made shoes to the expertly tailored suit and perfect hair. “You’re a little overdressed for this diner, aren’t you?”

Sam smiles, lifting one shoulder in a light shrug. “I’m over dressed for the entire state of Kansas, but that’s no reason not to look good. Let’s discuss this, Gabriel. I know what the Elders think is happening, but no one from the Men of Letters had been out looking until the thing in Maine.”

Gabriel builds a pyramid with jelly containers. “So much for foreplay. Right to the meat of it, huh? Look, Maine was not our fault, we got there late.”

Dean barks out a laugh. “Shurleys. You two do little research and no reconnaissance, and then barge into Whateley’s home unprepared and right into the shit. You could have both been killed, and he sure got away. I mean serious-” He cuts off with a pained noise when Sam kicks him.

Sam continues smoothly, “Of course. You did what you could with your resources being what they are. We have an impressively fat file on this, but it is filled with speculation based on little evidence. You and your brother seem to know a great deal more since you have been following him across the country. Care to share?”

Gabriel looks over his sunglasses at Sam. “Sure, I share with you and you slip out in the middle of the night and never call me the next day. Why would I do that?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Gabriel, we’re on the same side. The Men of Letters has more resources than you and your brother do. As impressive as your record _is,_ the truth is that we can do this faster and neater than either of you. You tell us, and we take care of it. Then you can get Castiel his very overdue vacation. I mean, look at him.” Sam nods pointedly at Gabriel’s brother. “When our hunters get wound that tightly, they take mandatory time off.”

Gabriel looks between the brothers with a smirk. “Men of Letters. You people think you own everything. I don’t care who your daddy or your grand-daddy are…”

“Grand- _daddies,_ ” Dean interrupts, “Samuel Campbell _and_ Henry Winchester. Watch your mouth, mutt. We’re the scions of both the clans, bred to leadership. Who exactly are the two of you? Grease covered monkeys with no common sense.”

Gabriel laughs mockingly. “Listen to you. _Scions_. Who talks like that?”

Sam closes his eyes in frustration, grabbing Dean as he surges forward in his seat as if he’s going to attack Gabriel, angrily growling, “You are going to get him killed, you stupid son-of-a bitch.”

Gabriel stands and snorts. “Why, Dean. Someone would think you cared. Watch it, you’ll be due for a session with big daddy Campbell for some more ‘re-education’ if someone hears you’re so far off the reservation.”

Dean blanches, the blood draining from his face. Gabriel walks back to his brother, leaving utter silence in his wake.

At the counter, Castiel’s forehead is pillowed on his hands. He mumbles into them, “Sooooo, how did it go?”

Before he can answer, the Winchesters come up to the front to settle their bill, Sam escaping out into the fresh air while Dean gives the waitress a phony mega-watt smile, passing her a wad of cash. The smile drops the instant he turns away. He stalks to the door and pauses there for a second as if he’s about to say something, but Sam calls from outside and he hurries away.

The waitress plops a to-go bag on the counter in front of Cas, causing him to jerk upward or risk getting smacked in the head. She looks pointedly at the door before dropping the bill on the counter and walking away.

Castiel picks it up and sighs as he looks at it. “That asshole paid for our food.”  
  
\---

The hotel parking lot is still and sweltering, heat shimmering from the pavement. It’s still better than the hotel room which has no working AC unit, one small inadequate fan ticking away on a side table as the only moving air.

Castiel is bent under the open hood of the Mustang, wrench in one hand. He’s in an undershirt and jeans, a sheen of sweat covering his skin. Every once and a while he grumbles filth under his breath as something within the depths of the engine annoys him, but he’s sober for once and in a good mood.

Gabriel is sitting on their cooler next to the car, drinking a beer and flipping through their case file on his tablet. “So, Whateley finally got a hold of some actual pages or copies of pages from this stupid book, which I can’t believe is actually real. The attempt he made in Maine didn’t work, and not just because we showed up. That... _thing_ …”

Both brothers shiver as if the sun and heat weren’t cooking everything around them. Gabriel takes a really long drink of beer, and then continues hoarsely, “It was clearly not what he meant to summon. I was wondering why he was heading all the way out here, and I finally figured it out. It looks like he’s heading to the State University.”

Cas straightens up, wiping his hands on a dirty rag. He leans his hip on the car and accepts a beer from Gabe. “Why? Seems kind of random.”

“Well, yeah, I thought so too. But it turns out he’s an alumni. They all got this newsletter about a guest lecturer.” Gabe turns the tablet so Cas can see it.

He leans in, squinting against the summer sun. “Dr. H. Armitage, lecturing on the long lost book, the Necro…” He looks up at Gabe. “Really? This cannot be that simple. And why do I know that name?”

Gabriel closes the tablet and stands up, stretching. “Well, it was a name in a lot of those Lovecraft stories. He was a professor of the Occult, if I remember right. The article says that he has the book with him and,” he checked the screen before adding with a smirk, “It’s being displayed in their art gallery.”

Cas closes the hood of the car. “So, he took the name of this professor and is doing lectures on this famous, used to be fictional, book of evil. What are the odds this guy is a pretentious wannabe? My money's on the likelihood that the book in the gallery is a well made prop instead of the real thing.”

Gabe laughs. “I guess we’ll see. Whately wants the entire ritual, so catching him there will be easy.”  
  
\--

It is not easy.

They arrive about one second too late to keep Dean from flying across the lecture hall and being pinned to the wall by Dr. Armitage, who points at him, holding him in place from the podium. Students run everywhere, screaming as the lights flicker and spark.

Cas sneaks in behind Gabriel, keeping low between the seats. “Or the real Henry Armitage, that works too. Those stories were set in the thirties, so Demon or Witch?”

Gabe makes an incredulous noise as he peers around the seat, gun at the ready. “I’m going to go with neither.”

Dean yells something that sounds like, “Tentacles, _really?”_ and Castiel is up and running, heedless of Gabriel trying to stop him.

He runs most of the way before his brain catches up with what he is seeing, then he’s skidding on the tile floor and falling flat on his ass. Dr. Armitage’s face has split open to reveal a horrifying monster just beneath the skin, and where Dean was being suspended by magic previously, he is now being held up by curling black tentacles dripping with ichor. Tentacles sprout from the creature’s face, twitching in time with its words. It says something in a strange language, liquid bubbling around its mouth as it does.

Dean’s disbelieving laugh has a tinge of hysterical bravado to it. “Buddy, you are one fugly asshole.” He shoots at the monster, making it jerk backwards. It _howls_.

The tentacle pinning him to the wall slides up to curl around Dean’s neck, and it starts to _squeeze._ Dean drops the gun, grabbing at his neck and trying to free himself, but it just slides him up higher against the wall. Dean makes horrible choking noises, thrashing and clawing at the slimy black tentacle.

Castiel, recovered from the shock, launches himself at Armitage with a huge knife, slashing and stabbing at it. Sigils on the blade flash as it cuts, a sickening greenish light pouring from the wounds. Armitage bellows in pain, brutally backhanding Castiel, who goes flying across the room. He smacks his head against the wall with a wet thump and lies still in a heap.

Dean lets out a strangled noise that sounds a lot like “Cas!”, his face turning red as he tries to free himself from the iron-like grip around his throat. Gabriel scoops the knife up from where it landed when Cas went flying and attacks Armitage, slashing at him in a fury. Dean struggles, managing to withdraw a long silver knife from a sheath in his boot, stabbing viciously into the meat of the appendage and ripping open a huge hole.

Green light flows out of the wound, and Armitage roars in pain. Ignoring Gabriel completely, he focuses complete attention to Dean, lifting him away from the wall and high into the air by his neck. The creature throttles him until Dean stops bucking and clawing ineffectually at his neck, the blade clattering to the floor. Dean hangs there, his eyes blank and glazed, twitching while Armitage laughs and black ooze bubbles out of his monstrous mouth. Then, Gabriel comes up behind him and stabs his knife up and into the monster’s brain stem. It falls like a sack of potatoes, releasing Dean who thumps hard to the ground, wheezing and choking.

Castiel is already sitting up and moaning by the time Gabriel rushes over to him. Dean lies on the floor, panting quietly, and there is a tense silence.

“So,” Gabriel looks over at Dean when he stirs, cleaning off the blade and putting it back in his boot, “is that our stolen angel blade in your pocket?”

Castiel snorts.

Dean frowns. “I didn’t _steal it_ , I kept it. And it’s not in my pocket, I had a sheath made for it.”

Gabriel quirks his lips and Castiel laughs, making him wince and hold his head.

“What?” Dean narrows his eyes, looking between the two of them. A beat, and then Castiel starts laughing like shattering glass, doubling over. Comprehension dawns and Dean rolls his eyes, provoking another gust of mirthless cackling.

While Castiel tries to calm down, Gabriel asks, “Where the fuck is Sam?”

“Sam went to the library to look at the book. I was just supposed to watch Armitage, but he suddenly went berserk. And then his face fell off. “

Gabriel looks unimpressed. “You split up? So, what, Sam thought he’d just nip over and steal the book, while you tackled that other guy on your own?”

Dean gives him the finger and fumbles out his phone, dialing Sam. It rings to voicemail and he tries again. Outside the lecture hall, the sound of authoritative voices filters through the door. Someone bangs on it.

Gabriel helps Cas up. “We can’t be here, Dean. Let’s go out the back. You and Cas find some empty classroom and sit. I’ll go get Sam.”

Dean makes a face. “You literally _just_ gave me shit for splitting up, and now you’re gonna Scooby-Doo it over to the art gallery?” The call goes to voicemail again.

Gabriel shrugs. “Yeah, but you’re both in no shape right now to do much of anything. And besides, someone has to watch Cassie. He hit his head hard on the wall. If he collapses, I’d like someone to be with him.”

Despite his protests, Gabriel and Dean help Cas to a nearby classroom, where he sits heavily on a chair. Dean sits on the floor, leaning against a wall. For a long time after Gabe leaves, they both stare into space, cataloging individual aches and pains. Cas suddenly moves and sits on the floor next to Dean, leaning back against the wall. He runs his hands through his hair, making it stick up in spikes where blood has dried and matted in in place. Dean stares at his phone morosely.

“It’s not even ringing any more. Just straight to voicemail.”

“I’m sure he’s okay,” Cas closes his eyes with his head tipped back against the wall.

Dean watches him. “You need a doctor, Cas, that was a really bad landing. You could get brain damage or something.”

“I’m sure he’s okay,” He repeats with a trace of a grin, not opening his eyes.

Grinding his jaw, Dean pokes at his phone. He twitches and shifts around, crossing and uncrossing his legs, turning the thing over and over in his hand. Restlessly getting to his feet, he walks around the edge of the room and stops at the door. Cas opens his eyes and watches Dean with a frown. Bouncing on his toes a little, Dean peers out of the tiny window in the door, then paces the room, looking at his phone and turning it around and around in his hand again.

“That pacing is making me nuts. You’re thinking about calling John, aren’t you?” Cas watches Dean warily.

Dean stiffens. “It’s protocol. They’ll send a team, and we can eliminate the threat cleanly. This homegrown crap you two were brought up with is why we’re in this mess to begin with.”

Cas eyes him. “You are stunningly full of shit. You’re thinking about calling John because he’ll be pissed if you don’t. Then I won’t be the only one who needs a doctor.”

Dean grinds his teeth, pretending to ignore that. He looks at the phone, hands hovering over the screen.

“Dean,” Cas prompts, “talk.”

With a sudden burst of movement, Dean scrubs his hands through his hair, an agitated sound bubbling up from the back of his throat. “Every minute I don’t call is a minute they’ll blame me for. Fuck, we left a monster’s corpse in that room and everything. I can’t even count how many rules I’m breaking right now.”

Cas frowns up at him. “Even if we catch this lunatic, you’ll get reamed for everything else.”

Dean laughs, the sound tinged with desperation.”You know it, Cas. Fuck, you know it more than anyone else. What I did--what I did to you...”

Castiel smiles a brittle smile. “What you did to me was nothing compared to what they did to _you._ Given all of that, Dean, why aren’t you on the phone right now? Come on, sit down. You’re shaking. What’s going on in your head?”

He doesn’t sit, instead choosing to hover near the door. “I’m--I don’t know. I feel so fucking… suffocated.”

“Suffocated.” Cas snorts. “By the resources, a bunker that has an entire library filled with lore, a laboratory? A safe place to sleep? Or by the family who has your back?” Cas pauses, lifting an eyebrow. “Hell, what about the money? You and your brother wear thousand dollar suits and drive whatever car you want. Sam went to fucking Stanford, and you have a degree from MIT. You’re a _chemist_ , for crying out loud.”

Dean’s jaw twitches, his eyes glued to the tiny window, watching the hallway. Neither of them speaks for a few minutes. Cas bitterly closes his eyes against the glare of the lights.

“Two degrees.”

Cas opens one eye and peers up at him. “What?”

Dean blushes a little and shrugs a shoulder. “I have two degrees. From MIT. I got them concurrently. “

Cas opens the other eye and looks at him. “You’re telling me that you went to the super-college for smart people, and got _two degrees at the same time?_ Did you just hate fun?”

Dean sits on the floor next to him, shoulders touching. “No way, I had fun. I made friends. Had a pot habit. I built a robot to roll joints for me. It’s just…” He makes a hand gesture.

“I get bored. If I sit around too long, I get into trouble. If my mind is busy, I can’t get into trouble and disappoint everyone. So I got two degrees. Grandpa Henry was proud, I guess.”

Cas snorts. “But not Samuel, eh?”

Dean shivers involuntarily. “No, he was not pleased. If I’d joined the Marines he would have been overjoyed. I think the Campbells wanted a Winchester on their side.”

“The Men of Letters and their weird obsession with separating people into ‘Hunters’ and ‘Researchers’... You’re a fucking genius like Sam, but you’re a Hunter anyway because you didn’t want anyone else partnering with him.” Castiel pauses, eyes sharp as he watches Dean’s face. Into the silence he asks, “Despite that, you want out. Don’t you?”

Instead of answering, Dean plays with the band of braided leather around his wrist, the twin of one on Castiel’s wrist. He opens his mouth to say something as Gabriel breathlessly slams his way into the room. He holds his hand out over Dean’s and drops a length of silver necklace chain into it.

“The book is gone too, the glass smashed. The security guard is dead and Sam is nowhere to be seen. That,” Gabriel nods at Dean’s hand, “was near the display, though.”

The chain slips, sliding through Dean’s grasp till it catches and hangs on one finger. The Men of Letter’s Aquarian Star glints silver as it turns slowly. Dean stares at it. Castiel rests his hand on Dean’s shoulder gently.

“I went by your hotel room, just in case Sam was there with the book, but no dice. I think Whateley took him. He probably means to use him in the ritual,” Gabriel says quietly, watching Dean.

Dean surges to his feet. “I have to call this in. Fuck, I wasted so much time!”

Cas lunges up to grab at Dean’s phone.”No! Dean, don’t call the Men of Letters.”

Wild-eyed, Dean yanks his arm free. “No! No, I ignored protocol and look what happened! They’ll send reinforcements, weapons, _intel._ ”

“They’ll send John and Samuel both. The first thing John will do, _after_ telling you how much of a disappointment he thinks you are, as if this is your fault, is bench you. And because Samuel is a fucking sadist, he’ll make you sit on the sidelines and watch while they make a huge production out of this, and Sam doesn’t _have time_ for extra research and meticulous planning.” Cas grabs Dean’s coat in an iron grip, just barely refraining from shaking him. “Sam will _die_ before they even mobilize! And even if they miraculously save him, they’ll still punish you. They’ll punish you, and they’ll do it hard.”

Dean tries to pull away, but Cas jerks him forward by the coat. “Do this with Gabe and I instead. We know this asshole, we’ve been chasing him for the better part of a year. Your family is a bunch of controlling shitheads. If any time is the time to defy them, it is _now._ For Sam.”

Snarling, Dean grabs Castiel’s shoulders and pushes him, turning them both, slamming Cas’ back against the wall, knocking the air from his lungs. For a minute they stand staring into each other’s eyes, both panting for air. Dean leans in, inches from Castiel’s face.

Gabriel’s face pops up, kissing distance from them both, a lollipop stuck between his teeth. “Now kiss!” He grins.

Dean swears and pulls away, turning his back on them both. Castiel closes his eyes. “If we didn’t have an urgent thing, my dear brother…”

Gabe shrugs, nonplussed. He perches on the teacher's desk, legs swinging. “But we do. Bone hard later, assholes. I have a lead, but we have to get out of here to talk about it before the cops get back here and find us sitting around with blood all over our clothes. Let’s go back to the hotel.”  
  
\--

Dean makes them bring their research and gear to his room instead, citing the fact that if Sam escapes, that would be where he’d go; his distaste at the empty pizza box and litter of empty whiskey bottles in Gabe and Cas’ room is evident enough to turn it into a partial lie.

They spread the notes out over one of the beds and pour over them. Ten months of hunting had produced a lot of pictures, paperwork, and lore. Dean fixates on the landslide of pictures they have of former ritual sacrifices until Cas gathers them up into a folder.

“This case must have been crawling with Feds,” he says, white faced.

Cas nods. “Because he was moving from state to state, it took a while. But when Agent Henriksen caught on to the pattern, yes. We had to move fast because he would get there as soon as he could. When he realized that we existed, he started telling the locals at every crime scene to watch out for us. We had to be creative.”

Dean sits on the other bed with a file. “So, I know what we have at the bunker, but it really is just a lot of hearsay and after the fact research. Samuel alienated Charlie, so we don’t really have someone to pry apart the Fed’s database.” Dean looks between them, swallowing hard. “Tell me what you know.”

Gabriel snorts. “Look, I know what Cassie here wants, but I have to say that you’re either with us or with the Men of Letters on this one. This isn’t something that your family can capture and put in their not so secret dungeon. We have to put this man, along with anything he summons, down. It could devastate the world, Dean, once at full strength.”

Everyone in the room falls silent, the brothers watching Dean, and Dean watching his phone’s lock screen. Then he nods.

“Give me your phone,” Cas asks quietly. Dean looks up at him in shock.

“Then if you’re tempted to call them, you can’t. Then we can trust you.” Castiel’s face is stone.

Dean hands it over quietly, turning away to look at a file to mask the hurt that ravages his face.

Clearing his throat and awkwardly shuffling papers, Gabriel just starts talking.

“So, when we started on this, we found some of Whately’s journals. We know Whately realized that some of those stories by Lovecraft weren’t fiction when he met a professor at a lecture. From what just happened, I figure that had to be Armitage. We know he let Whately have a peek, but when Armitage let him know he wasn’t interested in using this book or any other artifacts, Whately stole some lesser texts to study and has been slowly losing his mind. Artifacts from that realm open you up to influences from the creatures in it, and after some time, something contacted Whately. He’s been worshipping it since, starting with small animal sacrifices, and then moving on to humans once his will was degraded enough.

“Incidentally, I don’t think Armitage himself was ever actually a real person. From what I’ve read, I think he’s an escapee, taking human form for a while. Opening a gate would let in his relatives, and then he’d be in trouble. I found his car on the way back and broke in. From the things I found in there, it seems like he was only interested in living a life here.”

Dean furrows his brow, looking down at the papers again. “If he wanted nothing to do with using that thing, why the lecture? Why display it? And why would he just attack me like that, if he wasn’t in on it with Whately?”

Cas and Gabriel look at each other before Cas nods.

“Well, my theory is that he’s intimately connected to the book, maybe he could feel it when it was stolen. And…” Gabriel stops.

Dean looks in between them. Gabe looks down at his hands.

Finally, Cas reaches over to tap the Aquarian Star Dean wears around his own neck. “You all have a reputation. He saw you and probably figured that you were here to take him.”

Dean swears. “My fucking family. So, we had to kill the only person who could help us figure out where the book was, and now that Whatley _has it,_ he can summon an old god who can turn our world into pudding?”

Gabriel holds up some papers. “Only mostly. We have these. I don’t know why Armitage had a few pages removed from the book with him, but I can guess. With a maniac out there who wants the book, these pages have to be the key to keeping him from succeeding.”

Dean throws his file on the bed violently. “Except he’s still going to _kill Sam_ , whether it works or not.”

Castiel puts a calming hand on his arm. “So let’s stop him. We know the kinds of places he prefers to do this.”

Gabe ticks off on his fingers as he speaks, “The usual abandoned places: barns, warehouses, box stores. We caught up to him once in an old school. This isn’t the kind of thing that will work out in a hotel. He needs room for the ritual, a space where no one will hear screams or loud chanting, and after he does this, reality gets weird. That kind of thing invites interruption.”

Blinking with sudden inspiration, Dean pulls the map of Kansas out and unfolds it. “Manhattan doesn’t really have a lot of places like that, but with what he’s trying to do--” He points to a spot.

Cas squints at it, then closes his eyes and exhales heavily. “Son of a bitch. We’re like, an hour from Stull.”

Gabriel turns and starts packing everything back up in his bag without a word. Grim faced, Cas follows suit. They take Castiel’s car, surprisingly without a peep from Dean. The Mustang somehow seems more appropriate, given their destination. The thunderstorm that starts halfway down the I-70 dumps curtains of rain that forces Cas to slow down with several violent curses. In the backseat, Gabriel is uncharacteristically silent, staring at the downpour, lost in a fugue of memories.

Despite nearly vibrating with tension, Dean’s voice is gentle. “He remembers everything.”

Cas purses his lips. “We both do. There’s no support group for this shit, either. Saved the world, mind-fucked by angels... where’s our veteran discount at the movies?”

Dean worries his bottom lip with his teeth. “He chose Stull because of that day. What if the gate to the Cage opens back up too?”

Castiel glances quickly at Gabriel in the rear view mirror, but he is oblivious to the conversation in the front seat. He hisses at Dean, “Knock it off. If you thought it, I guarantee he did too, but making him think about it actively will get us all killed because he’ll be too distracted to help.”

Dean falls silent, chastened. Cas drives in tense silence before grabbing for the box of tapes and pushing one into the radio. Blue Oyster Cult fills the car, and he barks out a laugh. “Okay, okay. I get it.”

Stepping on the gas, the Mustang plows a wake through puddles as Buck Dharma advises them not to fear death.  
  
\--

It’s well past dark by the time they arrive, speeding through farmlands and past the church. The cemetary was long thought to be a gate to hell, and on Halloween it would be mobbed by college students from Lawrence waiting to see the devil. No one outside of Stull had seen it when an actual gate to hell had opened, but the cemetery gave off a heavy vibe regardless that kept everyone away. The residents of Stull steadfastly ignore its presence and anything happening in it, so the car speeds through the town as if it is a ghost; ignored and unimpeded.

As they reach the gates, the thunderstorm parts like a curtain and they drive into a calm and rain-less center. Gabriel makes a noise from the back seat that makes Castiel nod. Dean squares his shoulders. The storm rages around the cemetary in a circle, as if rain was a curtain pulled to mask the unthinkable from the world.

The light from what has to be hundreds of candles bathes the area in flickering brilliance. They get out of the car, weapons at the ready. Whately can be seen clearly wearing all white, kneeling in front of Sam who lies naked in the center of the elaborate circle dug into the ground. Oblivious to their arrival, Whately stands reading from a huge book bound in leather of dubious origin.

Dean blinks, taken aback, tripping over his own feet and blurting out, “What the fuck!?”

Castiel snorts, pushing him forward and whispering, “Keep your damn voice down. Yeah, he’s not fooling around, and bondage gear is the best way to truss someone up so they can’t escape and ruin a summoning.”

Dean mutters, “He is never going to live that down. He’s not hurt, thank God.” Dean’s brows furrow and he hisses at Castiel, “Why isn’t he moving? He’s just staring.”

Gabriel keeps stride on the other side of Dean, lips a thin line, his eyes hard. He whispers, “He’s been drugged, and he’s not hurt because he’s meant to be eaten alive. “

Castiel grabs Dean’s shoulder to keep him from rushing forward. “Guys, be on your toes, I think we’re too late.”

Whately coughs out a maniacal laugh, arms raising upwards to beseech the circle of storm. A lightning bolt responds, striking the summoning circle which lights up in a bluish glow. Howling wind picks up, blowing leaves and dirt everywhere, putting out every candle at once and plunging the cemetary into a darkness only relieved by the glowing sigils. Mixed in with the noise of the wind is an unearthly wailing. Gabriel grabs both men by their collars and drags them back until their backs hit the wall of a mausoleum, crouching beside it to use it as a shield against the wind.

Gabriel pulls out the loose pages and pulls their heads close to yell into their ears. _“He’s trying to summon his patron, but Armitage tore the last page out and he’s had to improvise. There’s no telling what’s coming out of that gate... I have the stuff detailed to send it back here. Someone has to stop him from finishing that ritual and then read this spell, then the other two have to rescue Sam.”_

Dean touches Cas on the shoulder and speeds forward, slinking towards his brother as he pulls the angel blade from his boot. Cas grabs Gabriel’s face and looks him sternly in the eyes. Gabe nods once. Cas backs up, watching him, and then turns to hurry after Dean, pulling a huge runed knife from his belt.

The earth below Sam ripples like water, one long emaciated arm reaching upwards through it. Another follows, dirt dripping from each finger like dark water. Both hands place themselves firmly on the ground on either side of Sam and _heave_ , lifting a huge, spindly, almost human-shaped body from beneath the world. Head bowed, its curtain of black hair nearly obscures Sam from view, and the air warps around them, giving the sense that this being is both small enough to be contained in the circle, and yet infinitely bigger than it. It trails the length of Sam’s body with one claw-like finger, considering every curve and plane. Sam arches his back, moaning ecstatically, his eyes blank and glowing. Something like a chuckle burbles up from beneath the hair and it leans forward, speaking to Sam, who tilts his head back to offer his throat dreamily.

 _“Sam! No!”_ Dean’s scream gets caught by the wind. He’s flat out running now, not bothering to sneak, vaulting over gravestones in single minded desperation. His words seem to make it to Sam anyway, his brother blinking suddenly, hazel eyes widening in a slow, drugged horror. Sam takes in the creature crouched over his body and tries to scoot himself away from it.

It snaps its head up to glare at Dean, and the sight of it makes Dean stumble and trip over a grave. Castiel, close behind him, grabs at his arm and hauls him upright. Black eyes glittering, the creature opens its gash of a mouth and shoots out its tongue; the appendage is long and whipcord thin like its body, but dripping wet and sharp. It wraps around Dean’s waist and yanks while one massive hand casually pins Sam down so he can’t escape.

Whately’s chanting rises above the wind, taking on a booming timbre as if a chorus of creatures from beyond were joining in. Moving from behind, Gabriel flat out tackles him, knocking him to the ground mid chant. The chorus of voices scatter into madcap laughter, somehow even more deafening than the wind itself. Whately screams in frustration, striking and biting at Gabriel with abandon. Angrily, Gabe grabs his head and slams it into a gravestone, then again until he stops moving.

Dropping to his knees, Gabe hunches over the paper holding the spell, shielding it from the wind. Dipping one finger into the blood on the gravestone, he draws a sigil and starts reading. The wind plucks at his clothing and his hair, flinging pebbles and dirt at him, but he ignores it. A hideous scream comes from the circle yet, white knuckled, he ignores that too and reads, careful not to mis-speak a syllable.

Castiel runs after Dean, dodging gravestones, crossing the circle and leaping at the creature, stabbing at its bony shoulder. Dean, pulled helplessly towards the rows of needle sharp teeth in a suddenly massive mouth, stabs at its face, burying the angel blade in its slimy green eye. Sam forgotten, it claws at both men with a deafening scream. With an angry bellow, it slaps Cas away from it and follows through by slamming Dean flat to the ground. A voice rises above the wind, chanting words that slide around, refusing to be heard properly.

The symbols on the circle cease glowing and begin to suck the light in instead. All of the wind goes with it, sliding the trussed Sam along the ground towards the center of the circle, which has gone watery and unreal. Dean grabs at him, managing to snare him by his ankle and hold on as they’re both dragged towards the middle. The creature’s anger and despair make it flail and scream, knocking over headstones and digging huge furrows in the earth as it gets sucked into the beyond. Cas flings himself on top of Dean, trying frantically to stop the slide into the abyss, as Gabriel finishes his ritual and the portal closes with a bright burst of blue light.

Everything goes silent except for the sounds of four men trying desperately to catch their breath. Then Dean pushes Cas off him, frantically checking Sam until he groans out, “Stop, just-- can you wait until I have underwear on and I’m wearing less leather straps?”

Rolling his eyes, Dean turns to check on Cas. He’s lying on the ground next to them, blinking slowly up at the clear night sky; the storm is gone. The crescent moon gleams calmly above them, the sky is filled with falling stars and strange, cosmic dust sparkling against the velvet black of space. Dean leans over him, gazing down into his eyes. Cas looks back quietly, frozen in Dean’s eyes until Gabriel, carefully picking his way over the fallen headstones, passes them muttering about a hotel room.

Looking down at Cas, Dean says, “I love you.”

Cas closes his eyes and laughs tiredly. “I know.”

Gabriel shouts, “Hey bro, a hand here? I can’t figure out this buckle and Sam would like to put on some pants.”

Cas grumbles as Dean helps him up. “Why does he imply that I’d know how to unbuckle that thing?”

Dean grins. “You know why.”

He arches an eyebrow, but doesn’t respond. Grin widening, Dean follows him, watching as Cas unbuckles the harness with a deft twist of his hand and throws a challenging look at Dean. Dean holds his hands up with a laugh and helps his brother up.

Ten minutes later, they survey the damage to the cemetery. Sam sighs. “It will take everyone a few hours to get here, so we’d better call now. No matter how afraid they are of this place, the local police will eventually get the guts up to come and see what’s going on.”

Dean licks his lips and looks at Cas. Cas looks back, his expression neutral. “Sam, I...”

Dean turns away and pulls Sam aside, looking at him carefully. “I love Cas. Samuel… he can’t beat it out of me, or brainwash it out of me. I love him, and I don’t want to go back.” Dean swallows hard, waits a beat. Then, “Come with me.”

Sam is quiet, looking down at his hands. “You never could do what they asked. No matter what, you just had to be different.” He shakes his head, furrows his brows. “I think I get it. If you stay, they’ll just keep trying to bend you into the shape they want. I wish you’d never met Castiel... You were lost the second he kissed you.

“I can’t go, Dean. Dad is there, _Mom_ is there. Samuel is an asshole, but he’s family. Maybe, if I stay, I can help change how things are done. I’ll… I’ll say that you’re dead. It should buy you some time before they figure out it’s not true. I mean, look at this place. It’s not my fault if I come to and assume you’ve been killed.”

Sam looks sadly down at Dean, giving him a small, shaky smile. “Get going. Send mail to that P.O. box we set up last year. I’ll pick it up once a month.”

Dean hesitates, eyes tearing up. He looks at his brother and then Cas, stuck in a state of indecision.

No one moves.

Sam watches him intently, but Castiel seems indifferent, rifling through Whately’s pockets though the set of his shoulders and back are tense. Eventually, Gabriel sighs and comes over, patting Dean on the back.

Sam eyes him. “That book stays with us, Shurley. We have more resources to protect it, and we can study it. We’ll even share what we find out.”

Gabriel nods easily. “Sure. To be honest, I think we’re due a little vacation. I’m very tired of this book and everything that comes from it.”

He pushes his shoulder against Dean, throwing him off balance a little. “There aren’t a lot of moments in life where something you do changes everything, so I get why you’re getting cold feet. Look, if you want to go back, say you got amnesia and the big bad Shurley brothers kidnapped you or something. What I’m hoping is that Sam will come to his senses and join us later. But we gotta go. Like, soon.”

Dean nods curtly, turning to Sam and pulling him in for a rough hug. “I’ll be in touch. Be careful around Samuel, okay? He’s like a hound dog, he’ll smell this lie on you if you give him a chance.”

Sam nods, tears in his eyes, too choked up to talk. It isn’t until the Mustang has taken off down the road and he’s finished calling home, that he surveys the scene and swears until he starts laughing, sitting down heavily on a broken grave and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Parked on a hill in the summer dark, standing just outside the car in the warm night air, Castiel and Dean watch the sudden meteor shower until Castiel breaks and pushes Dean against the car, pinning him in place with his body.

Kissing and biting his way up Dean’s neck, he whispers softly, “No more running,” he bites at Dean’s jaw, “from me,” he rolls his hips, “ever again.”

Gasping for air, Dean can only shake his head and stammer, “No, I..I promise-- Oh _yes, Cas, please more…”_

Cas slips his hands under Dean’s shirt, groaning at the skin-to-skin contact. “I want to taste you,” he whispers as he licks the shell of Dean’s ear. Dean turns his head and captures Castiel’s mouth, kissing him hard and tangling his hands in Castiel’s hair, pulling just a little. With a grin, Cas starts to lower himself to his knees…

A cough makes him pause. Gabriel leans out of the open Mustang widow, his face inches from Dean’s groin, lollipop sticking out of the corner of his mouth. Next to him on the seat is the open book he stole right out from under Sam’s nose.

“Not that I generally mind a free show, Dean is a hot piece of ass and all, but watching you suck cock is not really something I had in mind. Ever. Could we--I dunno--get a hotel room? Let’s splurge and get two. Far away from each other.”

Dean bangs the back of his head on the car in frustration and Cas glares. “Someday, I will actually murder you, and no one will ask why. I thought you were asleep.”

Gabe shrugs with an obnoxious grin. Cas, rolling his eyes, gets into the driver’s seat and Dean scrambles to get in before the car drives like a bat out of hell towards civilization.

After ten minutes, Gabe says, “So, some more of these pages are missing, and neither man had them. We should probably track those down.”

Dean laughs, finally relaxing into his seat. “Sure. That sounds amazing. But later, Gabe. Much, much later. We have a lot of time to make up for first.”

The Mustang drives on into the dark, a shooting star falling overhead.

 


End file.
